


"-and you give three to a friend, what do you have?" "a friend"

by ArtissR0pita



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtissR0pita/pseuds/ArtissR0pita
Summary: Prompt: "I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital, this is sort of awkward, are you okay?"Or, it's a week to Christmas and Charlie doesn't pay attention to where she's going.





	"-and you give three to a friend, what do you have?" "a friend"

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really know where this came from and there's not really a discernible plot but this also the most i've ever written so i hope you enjoy it :')

Charlie had always hated driving through this part of town, especially after knocking off work, but with the blustery winter storm on its way, her nerves were jacked through the roof. Her shoulders tense, she checked the rearview mirror, inching forward slowly. Snowflakes drifted by, and if she were at home, she was sure she’d appreciate it more. But she was still a good twenty minutes away from her apartment and the slickening roads were already killing her anxiety. 

The light turned green, and the cars in front of her pulled off, a cacophony of honking and screeching tires. Charlie waited for the minivan in front of her to start moving, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, hoping to catch the end of the yellow light. And so it was, in her impatient desire to get home that she nearly missed the red light, and instead caught the man trying to cross the street. 

She hit the brakes immediately, trying not to scream, the man crumpling onto the crosswalk. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Charlie fumbled for her phone, hands shaking as she dialed for an ambulance. “Hello? Yes, I- I need an ambulance,” she said, trying to pull of her glove as she hurried over to where the man lay. She could see his chest rise and fall and she sighed with relief. “I’m afraid I accidentally hit a man- he’s still breathing, yes, oh, we’re by the old financial building, on Market, yeah, um, oh, thank goodness, yes, sorry, hold on,” she pulled the phone to her chest as she knelt beside the man.

“I’m so sorry, are you all right? No, no, don’t move, hey, the ambulance is on its way.” The man looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. Charlie searched his face worriedly, then remembered she still had the ambulance on the line. “Yes, sorry, um, oh- of course, yes, I understand. Mhm, thank you,” she hung up, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

“I am so, so sorry, sir. Are you hurt?” She carefully helped him sit up, his long, gangly arms seeming to take up too much space. Cars behind them honked, and Charlie could hear the sirens as the ambulance made its way through the city. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

“Maxwell.” He winced when her hand brushed his arm. Snowflakes caught in his thinning hair. Charlie checked her watch, then stood when she saw the ambulance coming down the street. 

The emergency responders caught her eye, confirming that this was the guy to take care of. She nodded, stepping back to let them through. She chewed her lip nervously, fidgeting with the buttons on her coat. A followup police car pulled up. She answered their questions as best she could, it all rushing in a blur. The first responders helped the man- Maxwell- into the back of the ambulance, the doors closed, and then it was gone. The police thanked her for her time, said they’d get in touch, but Charlie barely heard them. 

She stood in the snow for a few seconds, then shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. A glance up at the sky jerked her back to action, and she hurried back to her car, turning off the hazards and finally making her way home.

  
  


By the time she managed to get back to her apartment, the overcast skies had darkened with heavy grey clouds, the flurries of snow rushing through with aimless abandon. The chill wind blew right through her coat, her teeth chattering as she unlocked the door. Flicking on the lights, she couldn’t help but worry about the man she had nearly run over. Hopefully he’d be all right at the hospital.. She could curse at herself for not paying attention. 

As she threw her cold, wet coat onto the back of her sofa, she made the decision to visit the poor man in the hospital.  It was the least she could do! He had just been trying to cross the street, and she didn’t even notice him! She sighed.

Charlie knew there wasn’t really anything she could do at this point, but she’d try to make it up to him, however she could. Maybe consolation flowers? She’d worked in a florist’s shop before...

  
  


Early the next day, which, coincidentally was her day off, Charlie had hurried to find a flower shop that was open. She had already decided which flowers to buy; even if her victim didn’t know what they meant, she would. Purple hyacinths for sorrow and to ask forgiveness, azaleas to say ‘take care of yourself’, white poppies for consolation, and peonies for shame. Perhaps they didn’t quite go together, but her intentions were clear. She hoped. 

There was only one hospital in town, and so it was there that Charlie went next. She was just a bundle of nerves as she walked to the front desk. She cleared her throat nervously. “Excuse me?” She had to stand on tiptoes to get eye contact with the receptionist.  

“How can I help you?” The receptionist asked brightly, haphazardly shuffling the manila folders on the desk.

Charlie shifted her weight nervously. “Um, I’m here to visit someone?” 

The receptionist looked at her over their glasses. “Do you know who?” A light, teasing tone. Charlie hated being treated like a child, but was resigned to her fate, having a youthful face and too short a height. 

“All I know is his name’s Maxwell, and I nearly ran him over yesterday.” She tried not to get irritable.

The receptionist blinked. “Maxwell, you say? Hmmm… Maxwell, Maxwell, ah, here we are! Maxwell Carter, room 417. Elevator’s that way,” they pointed vaguely to the left.

Charlie nodded her thanks, clutching the flowers to her chest and walking to the elevator.  _ Maxwell Carter, room 417. _ She tried to commit the name and number to memory. Maxwell Carter sounded like a nice name, oh, the poor man, she fretted to herself, the elevator doors sliding open. Her hands shook slightly when she got to the fourth floor, but she tried to walk confidently down the hall. It worked well until she realised she was going the wrong way. 

She reached room 417 just as a nurse opened the door. “Oh! Are you here to visit Mr Carter?” She nodded, her voice lost in her throat. “Mr Carter, someone’s here to visit you!” The nurse said, ushering her into the sterile room. 

Mr Carter looked at her in confusion. He did not know this woman, and he was about to say so, but the nurse had already left the room.

“I-I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday, Mr Carter. And, I know it’s not really a consolation, but I brought you these flowers?” Charlie handed him the bouquet, smiling nervously. 

Suddenly it clicked in his head. “Oh! You’re the woman who hit me yesterday.” She cringed, nodding. 

“Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry about hitting you, and if there’s any way I can make it up to you, please-” Maxwell cut off her wild gestures. 

“I’m fine. Really. Just a slight fracture, and they say that was just from impact of hitting the ground. You barely even did anything.” Charlie wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She eyed the door nervously. 

Then she noticed she was the only one in the room, his only visitor. And suddenly she got sad. It was only a week to Christmas, and this man was all on his own.

“Thank you for the flowers. Were they on purpose? If not, how highly coincidental the meanings,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. His gaze was focussed on one of the azaleas- “‘Take care of yourself for me’, I don’t think that’s quite what some one would normally say, but the sentiment is appreciated.” Charlie’s face flushed. But at least now she knew he knew the meaning of flowers, too. She opened her mouth to reply, but the nurse walked back in. 

“Well, Mr Carter, it looks like you’re clear to go. Just take care of yourself, and check back in in a couple of weeks, okay?” The nurse smiled cheerfully. Maxwell nodded.

Charlie wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now. She stepped back from the bed, and was about to head towards the door. “Wait, you didn’t even introduce yourself!” Maxwell said. He was standing now, and lord almighty he was tall.  _ I’m used to things being taller than me _ , Charlie thought to herself.

“I’m Charlie,” she said. “Charlie McAllister.” Maxwell’s whole face softened into a warm smile. 

“Well, Charlie McAllister, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He transferred the bouquet she had given him into the crook of his broken arm, offering the other for a handshake. Charlie hesitated, then grasped his hand firmly.

The two walked together out of the hospital room, Charlie pressing the button for the elevator. As they were heading out of the hospital, the receptionist bid them farewell with a “Merry Christmas!” 

“Do you have plans for Christmas?” Charlie asked, conversationally.

“If by plans you mean sit at home doing nothing, then yes.” Maxwell absentmindedly followed her towards the parking deck, even though he clearly was not parked anywhere near there, and did not even own a car.  And even if he did, he probably shouldn’t drive with a broken arm, at least not yet. (This still with the fact that he did not own a car, and that he hadn’t taken lessons for many years, therefore not knowing how to drive a car, either.)

“You don’t got family to visit?” She knew it wasn’t any of her business, and yet she asked anyway.

Maxwell looked away, abashed. “I’m afraid we don’t talk much these days. My brother and his daughters live in California, now, and I, clearly, do not.” He fiddled nervously with a button on his jacket. “What about you?” He drew the attention back to her.

Charlie shuffled for her keys in her pocket as they drew nearer the parking deck. “Nah. Pretty much the same situation for me. My sister lives up in British Columbia, though.” Her keys jangled obnoxiously as she fumbled around. “Say, do you need a lift?”

Maxwell blinked and remembered that he did not have a car and as the chill wind picked up, it was a bitter reminder that it was really cold outside. He considered it for a moment. This was a woman whom he had just met, and their only reason for meeting was because she hit him with her car. But it really was just too cold out. He accepted her warm offer. 

It was a relatively quiet drive. Snowflakes continued to flutter about gently, blanketing the world in a soft grey glow. Maxwell gazed out the window, eyes trailing the flakes as they drifted in slow swirls. Maxwell told her where to turn on occasion, and Charlie was surprised by how close this was to her workplace. They were quiet as she pulled into a parking space. 

“Hey, if you ever need anyth-” she started.

“I really appreciate wh-” he said at the same time.

They broke off, laughing nervously. 

Maxwell cleared his throat, starting again. “Thank you. I do appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

“It’s my fault you’re even in this mess!” She clutched her skirt in her hands. Then she sighed, unballing her hands. She looked back up at him, trying to meet his eyes. “If there’s ever anything you need, um,” she shuffled around her pockets for a piece of paper, “don’t hesitate to call me, okay? I feel really bad about all this, so if there’s anything I can do to help you out, just let me know.” She hastily scribbled out her name and number, frustrated over the lack of ink in her pen. 

Maxwell blinked, in the middle of unbuckling his seat belt. “Oh, really, I’m sure that’s not necessary-”

Charlie looked up at him with blue eyes. “Come over for Christmas.” And suddenly those blue eyes widened, and he knew she hadn’t meant to say that. She looked away.

He hesitated.

She scribbled something else on the paper (he said scribbled- she had lovely curling handwriting), and handed it to him. She steadied her breath. “Come over for Christmas?” It was a question now.

“I’d love to.”

And he realised he meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> ?? how do people write ?


End file.
